The Art Of Deduction
by Lamorna Smith
Summary: This is my first story. A new 21st century Sherlock Holmes in female form. Read as she embarks on an adventure with the descendant of Sherlock Friend and collegue Dr Watson. R and R please... no flames.


chapter one.

All was calm, quiet and at rest. My heart, steady and deep, was the only thing I could hear as i sat in my house contemplating a recent case. I lit one of my special brand cigarettes and flicked through the case files. A tear trickled down my face, like a tiny sparkling crystal. My name was Allina Caralina Holmes, the great, great, great, great grand-daughter of the amazing Sherlock Holmes himself. I didn't know this in the beginning. this is the story about the beginning, where my life got turned up side down. This is how I began to really see.

It all began when I was 17. I started to pick out all the little details, that no-one else noticed. One day i indulged myself in the feeling of achievement, when I unearthed a truth about my art teacher, Mr Crulch. I walked up to his desk.  
>"What are you doing, Miss Holmes?" he asked as I stared at him attentively.<br>" Just making sure that my facts are right." I said with great please, "which they are." I paused, "You're having an affair. The class broke out in laughter.  
>"Excuse me!" Mr Crulch exclaimed, as his face began to turn red in anger.<br>"Well," i began taking delight in the awkward situation, "Here on the left side of your collar of your shirt is a smudge of foundation, then on your neck, just below the chin is a slight bruising with minute traces of lipstick. Deep crimson red in fact. This indicates that whom ever it was gave you a love bite." I ran my finger over it. and smelt it, "hmmmm, mint and a different colour foundation from that on your shirt. Your wife's maybe. To the hide the fact of your affair being true. You smell of Lavender faintly, indicating a closeness to another body. It all adds up to my only suspect... Miss Arnel, the geography teacher. Her favourite perfume smells distinctly of lavender, she wears that exact colour of lipstick and foundation." i smiled smugly at the awestruck Mr Crulch, "Point proven!" I strode out of the classroom, leaving my hair trailing behind me.

I was so confused and in shock. What had I done? I had no idea where that had come from. I was going crazy as i looked around only seeing the facts, while running into the bathroom. I pulled back my uncontrollable thick curly chocolate brown hair and tied it up. My eyes were bright and alert. I went home and sat listening to classical music and I had never listened to it in my life before. I took deep breaths and calmed myself. I couldn't understand where this spurt of intelligence had come from. My mind was buzzing with information. I went on my laptop with the sudden urge to check my family tree. Typing in the appropriate website, I added my mother, my father and my name into it. It came up with so many people. I looked back and back then stopped. It was dated around 1880. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The only detective in the family, 5 generations ago in London. Me, little old me, was related to Sherlock Holmes, the most amazing detective of all time. He had the same hair as me, thick and curly, but short obviously. Finding this out put everything into perspective. I knew now what I had to do with my future.

The next years of my life I studied hard and finished college with A's in in forensic science, psychology and English language. I went to University and carried on my studies in the same fields plus I did music as well, mainly paying attention to the sweet endearing melodies of the piano. I excelled at all I put my mind to. I didn't really have any what people might consider as 'friends', I had acquaintances of a sort. Most people didn't like the sharpness of my tongue or how I told the hard honest truth. There was nothing I could do about that. I spent most of my spare time, of what little I had, reading the news and solving crimes and giving the solutions to the police anonymously to the police, who, hard as they tried could never track me down. The joys of being good at what you do. The outcomes, being outlawed and lonely in sense from modern society. I didn't mind too much, in fact, hardly at all. I had never loved, never had a high school sweet heart. It was deemed a priority for me to have that sort of a relationship with someone. So yes I was a virgin. A few of what would be called hot guys tried to catch my attention, but failed as I told them politely that their attempts were useless, because if I was even remotely interested in that kind of socialising it would not be with a guy that had more brain cells in his penis then his actual brain. I also said to come back when he would be able to have an intellectual conversation. God I wished people were at my level.

I was glad when i finished University and left my parents behind and moved to London into my own house, well, i was going to be sharing, which I was not happy about. I was going to have to deal with it and try to get along with them. Meh, maybe life would surprise me and give me someone decent to talk to. I walked into my new place and my stuff was already unpacked, tidy and precise, just how i liked it. I could smell my new house mates' aroma. Male. His cologne was strong and musty. I couldn't help but peak in his room. He was an ex-service man of some kind around 25 years old, single. Very, very neat and tidy. Hang on this was history replaying itself, Dr Watson, Sherlock's only friend. This was definitely mind blowing and unbelievable, but the facts added up and did not whisper lies to my ever seeing eyes.

I sat for a while wasting time with a decent bottle of red wine and my favourite cigarettes and my piano. My house mate had not arrived yet. I stroked my black trousers into shape and wiggled my toes where they rested on the pedals of the piano. I poured myself another glass of red wine and lit another cigarette. I pondered over the little details i had found. he was blonde had short hair , probably quite tall well-built and slight, handsome too. This didn't interest me much though. My ears twitched as I heard the front door open and click shut. Footsteps came up the stairs, about a size 12 from the depth in the sound they made. My door was wide open, I heard him stop.

"You know it's rude to stare." I said plainly.

"I'm sorry." he stuttered, in a deep smooth voice. I hadn't looked to see if my conclusion was right yet.

"I'm Allina Holmes." I smiled, "you are?"

"Carl Watson." I laughed so hard and that in its self was a rarity. It couldn't be, it shouldn't be.

"let me guess you are... ex-military... you a field doctor as well?"

"How did you know?"

"Just how you keep yourself tidy and the fact that you are related to the friend of my great great great, great, great grandfather Sherlock Holmes,"

"How did... how did you figure that out?" I still hadn't looked at him yet, so I stood up, turned around slowly and looked at him. Like i had concluded he was tall, blonde, slight muscular build under his neat ironed suit and shirt. he stood proud and dignified, but for some reason there was doubt in his eyes. His pupils were dilated and the piercing blue of his irises could hardly be seen.

"I am the only inheritor of Sherlock's intelligence, so I'm the new anomaly of the family."

"Oh!" he exclaimed, "well welcome, I'm sure we will get on fine."

"Umm yes."

"You don't really know how to communicate properly do you?"

"I do, but i choose not to, because so far I haven't found any one of my intelligence. Sorry." i walked over to where he stood at the door. "Night." and I shut the door.


End file.
